


everything everything

by JeanSouth



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 06:43:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6273862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeanSouth/pseuds/JeanSouth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's cute.</p>
            </blockquote>





	everything everything

Oikawa is cute.

Every now and then he is terrifying, or heartbreaking, or infuriating, but on the whole: cute.

At the moment, his legs are set wide apart to make him shorter and stop him from having to lean quite so far forwards, on orders of his doctor after he’d whined of a sore back and been told he hunched too much and bent wrong. That was years ago, though; three or four if not more. Their time together, Iwaizumi is certain, transcends the actual laws of time to pass in a mishmash of all at once eternal and too quick.

“Who’s a cutie?” Oikawa croons at a tiny yellow chick that cheeps happily back at him, nipping at his fingers to see if any food might be forthcoming. Now that they’re a little older than just-hatched, looking fluffy and squishable, they’re almost ravenous and it overcomes their sense of stranger-danger. Avoiding the sharp little beak, Oikawa runs the pad of his index finger gently over its head, then its back, laughing in delight at its softness. “You are!”

No, Iwaizumi thinks, _you_ are. In the late spring weather, Oikawa’s hair is a bit longer than he normally keeps it and due for a trim. It curls softly from the warmth, a few loose strands resting on his neck. They’re only little baby hairs, new and just-grown, but they draw his eye too much for confort. He wants to caress it; it’s a word he never would have thought of if he hadn’t seen it on a manga cover a few days ago, and soon he’ll forget it exists.

To quell the urge, he rests a hand on Oikawa’s neck and shakes lightly, startling him gently.

“You’re going to raise them with a limited vocabulary,” he jokes, harkening back to an old inside joke where 8-year-old Oikawa had gone through a phase of strongly believed babies should be spoken to as adults. He’d grown out of it, as children always did, but he’d never live it down.

“I’ll send them to a good school,” Oikawa peeks at him from the corner of his eye, gently cupping one of the chicks in his big hands, then turns and holds it up to his face where it curiously watches him. He still looks cute when he winks, his ridiculously long lashes framing his eyes, the chick nuzzling at the smooth skin of his cheeks. The kiss he blows it is even cuter, the tip of his left ear wiggling slightly with the motion. It’s always been his expressive ear, which is a dumb thing to think, but there he had it.

“Tuition’ll cost you a fortune,” Iwaizumi warns, stepping closer to… what? To pet the chick? To kiss him? To slide an arm around Oikawa’s waist and slot them together hip to hip? He almost rolls his eyes at himself; whenever they’re alone his thoughts get away from him for a few minutes before he can just _relax_ already. He tickles at the chick’s side, prompting another cheerful cheep from it and a nip at his fingers.

“You’re the mother,” Oikawa huffs, putting the chick back gently so it doesn’t get too cold. “So you can homeschool them if you’re so worried.”

With that his lips quirk into a kissable smile, so Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, steps away from the science-class project incubator, and demands pork buns for the trip home before he does something dumb.


End file.
